


Not Alone

by FannibalToast



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, First Date, Happy Ending, Reader-Insert, Romance, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannibalToast/pseuds/FannibalToast
Summary: You’re late. Spencer worries.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader, Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Spooky Season, friends 🖤✨ In an effort to claw my way out of this Covid depression slump, I started doing some daily [writing prompts](https://downwithwritersblock.tumblr.com/post/630841393375477760/happy-halloween-sorry-i-know-i-am-a-day-late-but). A few of them feel share-worthy, so I’ll post them here. I haven’t done any reader inserts before, but it was fun. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Prompt: Alone_

  
Sunlight, for all its benefits—the Vitamin D, its positive effects on serotonin, the warmth it pressed into his skin—felt more like a spotlight than a sanctuary. The light caught on every reflective surface. Shiny plastic-pink barrettes in a little girl’s hair; the silver-blue edge of sunglasses on so many dads; the matching silver rings worn by the young women swinging their clasped hands together. Good things, he knew. Bright, happy, living things.

And then Spencer. Alone.

He knitted his fingers together, trying to disappear into the side of the small open shed where churning throngs of people picked up their bags, bolstered their voices to be heard over their excited, shouting children, and asked where the Galas or Macintoshes were. Being outside should have made the volume more bearable, but there were just… so many people out today. A shift in the breeze carried with it the heavy, sweet smell of apples and sun-dry hay, and the bright, sharp peals of laughter from every corner of the orchard. 

Spencer took a shallow breath, looking around and chewing his bottom lip. The teenager in the shed caught his eye and offered a sympathetic smile; she was kind enough not to call attention to him. 

It was just so crowded. It made it hard to focus on just one thing, hard to concentrate on anything. He glanced at his watch, his palms beginning to go damp. Old instincts curled up from the darker parts of his psyche: _he should go; this was too much; something had happened; you weren’t coming, either because you forgot or because…_

He swallowed, rubbing his eyes a bit too roughly. That was work talking. This wasn’t work. He inhaled slowly, inflating his lungs to the point of aching. This wasn’t work, this wasn’t life or death. 

He checked his watch one more time. You’d agreed on ten, hadn’t you? He’d been so sure, but maybe he’d forgotten, maybe it was Sunday instead of Saturday, maybe he was at the wrong orchard, _oh god_ maybe he’d misunderstood the invitation and you’d been talking to someone else—

“Spencer!”

He turned just in time to see the wind flip your hair into your face. You were grinning, but flustered, even a bit dishevelled and out of breath. You sputtered, pulling hair away from your mouth with a laugh as bright as the sun itself. You were next to him in a matter of moments, bending to rest your hands on your knees. When you looked up, you offered a sheepish look. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I parked over by the pumpkins thinking it’d be a quick walk over. _It was not_.” You said the last bit with a look of genuine, put-upon surprise, eyes wide and mouth set in a stern little line. 

God, you were adorable.

Spencer felt the tension ease out of his shoulders, the tightness in his chest unravelling. “That’s almost on the other side of the orchard! Did you… run here?”

You nodded. “Thought it would be quicker than trying to find parking down here.”

He looked around at the families, clusters of friends, and… other couples (the thought made him smile), and hummed his agreement. “It’s okay. I was just…” he tilted his head towards the shed, “waiting.”

You straightened, suddenly serious. “I know. I’m sorry. I know crowds are a lot. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

The breeze picked up again, surrounding you both with the scent of apples, rich earth, cinnamon-sugar and frying dough. The laughter around you seemed softer now, less intimidating. Even the sunlight seemed to go gentle now that you were there, looking up at him with such tenderness. Warm and welcoming. When he grinned and offered his hand, you took it without hesitation. 

“You’re here now.”

You pressed your lips to the inside of his wrist, surprisingly yourself as much as him judging by the sudden color in your cheeks. You chuckled and averted your eyes in a way that had him determined to kiss you fully before this day was done. 

Then you were grinning again, fingers still laced with his as you retrieved a couple of bags and led him towards the neat rows of trees. “Come on, let’s get some Cortlands. They make the best crisp. We can make one together this afternoon, once we’re finished here?”

_This afternoon._ As if just this morning wouldn’t be enough. As if you wanted him close for as long as you could have him. 

Well.

That made two of you.

He squeezed your hand, delighting in how firmly you squeezed back. “I’d like that.”


End file.
